Don't Cry For Me, Old Man Winter
by finnth3human
Summary: Eira Noël Stirling has just months to live. She's always found comfort in stories and legends, and has believed in the Guardians since a very young age. The only thing she wants before she dies is proof that they exist, which she receives in the form of Jack Frost. However as the two develop a strong bond and Eira deteriorates, Jack starts to question if he can bear to say goodbye.
1. Thawing

**I know I'm already in the middle of a RotG story, but the idea for this hit me randomly and I just had to write it down. ****This might seem like it's going to be all morbid but it will have its happy parts, I swear.**

**Also, I read somewhere that 'Old Man Winter' is another name for Jack Frost, hence the name of this story.**

**I apologise in advance if this brings up any bad memories or makes you think of something you don't particularly want to think about.**

* * *

She lay on her side, staring out of the window at the falling snowflakes. The snow had come early this year seeing as it was only September. But she wasn't complaining, not at all. She wished she could venture out of her room and into the whiteness of the world. There was no way her mother would allow that, though. Behind her, her older brother Oliver was sat in the armchair placed beside her bed, reading aloud her favourite book: Pride and Prejudice. Most of the time she did listen to him, but even when she didn't he continued to read to her anyway because she liked the background noise.

Outside the room stood her mother, Gemma, staring through the glass with a pained, though distantly stubborn, expression. Standing in these halls, the words of doctors often echoed through Gemma's mind:

_"I'm so very sorry... but I'm afraid Eira has a brain tumour."_

_"It is an __ependymal tumour. They begin in the ependyma: cells that line the passageways in the brain where cerebrospinal fluid is produced and stored. Oh, forgive me. Cerebrospinal fluid acts as a cushion, if you will, for the cortex, providing a basic protection to the brain inside the skull, and serves a vital function in cerebral blood flow."_

_"These tumours are often localized to one area of the brain, in Eira's case it is in the cerebellum. That means her coordination and balance will be mainly affected."_

_"I'm afraid the surgery was unsuccessful. Eira's tumour is in a place which makes it far too risky to attempt to remove."_

_"There is still the option of radiotherapy."_

_"It seems Eira is no longer responding to treatment."_

_"I'm sorry."_

_"Maybe you should think about taking her home and making her comfortable."_

_"Do you know of any final wishes she may have?"_

_"She doesn't have long left. I'd give it a few months."_

_"I'm sorry."_

_Sorry_. How Gemma despised that word. She didn't want people's pity, and she certainly didn't want people telling her that her seventeen year old daughter would no longer be breathing by Christmas. She watched Eira struggle into a sitting position, her face paler than usual. Oliver quickly, but gently, placed the book on the cabinet and hurriedly handed his sister the basin.

Eira threw up the contents of her stomach until there was nothing left, however her body continued telling her to vomit, resulting in a few minutes of horrible convulsing and heaving while Oliver rubbed her back.

"Oli," Eira rasped as she sat back.

"Yeah, doll?" He replied, using the nickname that she used to hate, but had allowed him to use ever since finding out about the tumour.

"Tell me about the Guardians," she requested, a ghost of a smile tugging at her dry lips.

Oliver was six years older than Eira, and he had always doted on his little sister. For as long as she could remember he'd told her stories about the Guardians: Santa, the Easter Bunny, the Sandman, the Tooth Fairy, and Jack Frost.

Jack was Eira's favourite. She'd always had a strong love of winter, which had commenced at the wee age of four after discovering that her name was Welsh for 'snow'. Her parents had chosen this name - along with her middle name, Noël - as she was born on the day of the Winter Solstice which happened to be four days before Christmas.

Therefore it was practically part of Eira's nature to adore Jack Frost so much. She was in love with the idea that he was responsible for bringing the snow that made the world look so pure, and the frost that coated windows and glittered as the sunlight hit it. She enjoyed hearing about how he was so mischievous and always knew how to have fun. She could have really done with some fun at that point in her life.

"You know how they keep asking me if I have any final wishes?" Eira asked Oliver when he'd finished telling his story. "I think I have one."

"Really?" Oliver responded, trying to swallow the painful lump that had lodged itself in his throat. "What's that?"

Eira turned her head towards the window again. Oliver could see the reflection of the snowflakes dancing in her green eyes that were still full of wonder somehow. He studied her hair that used to be the colour of chocolate, but was now as brittle and brown as dead tree bark. He knew her condition cursed her with fatigue and sleepiness, and thought sometimes she was too tired to even force words to leave her mouth.

Then when she finally spoke again, Oliver heard that old melodic ring to her voice that was once a permanent feature, but was now a rare gift, "I want to be certain that they exist; the Guardians. Believing is nice, but sometimes you just need to be sure." She didn't say out loud that she once believed she was going to live a long, happy life, and with that belief shattered she desperately held onto her brother's tales. Oliver didn't say out loud that he wanted more than anything for his sister's wish to come true, but he thought it impossible.

Little did they know, that just outside Eira's slightly open window, sitting on the snow-covered roof of the hospital, was the Winter Spirit himself. He'd perched on the roof to admire the late September snow he'd conjured up, when Oliver's voice uttering his name caught his attention. He'd listened intently to the siblings, and the minute he heard Eira's wish, he identified it was a _dying_ wish. For the first time in his existence, a chill ran down his spine.

* * *

**There's quite a bit of medical terminology in this, I did my research. Sorry if there's anything you don't understand... I'd suggest googling it.**


	2. Fern Frost

**I promise I haven't abandoned Take a Sad Song and Make It Better, I will be updating it soon!**

* * *

The following day was one of Eira's bad days, when the symptoms of her condition completely took over. She awoke around 4:30am sweating profusely and suffering from one of her severe headaches. One of the nurses came in and gave her morphine for the pain. Try as she may, she still couldn't get to sleep. Her father, Max, entered the room shortly after to read to her, which was what finally lulled her to sleep.

Only for a mere hour, though. The next time she awoke it was due to intense nausea. Gemma, who was now the one sitting beside her bed, instantly recognised the green tinge to her daughter's face and hastily grabbed the basin. After this, Eira found it very difficult to get comfortable due to the awful stiffness in her neck. By the time Oliver was sitting next to her, her vision had started to become hazy.

Eira couldn't even eat that day. A young nurse, Lisa, who was young with golden hair and a warm smile, and who happened to be Eira's favourite nurse, brought food into the room on a tray. As soon as the smell hit Eira's nose, she was reaching for the basin and vomiting for the umpteenth time. Lisa exited the room, before reentering without the food. She smiled at Eira in that way that never failed to comfort any patient, then gently sat on the bed behind her.

"Hey, Lisa?" Eira began as the nurse started to braid her thin hair.

"Hey, Eira," she replied jokingly.

"What was your favourite legend to hear about as a kid?"

This was one of those moments when Lisa felt very sad about Eira's condition. The way she'd asked the question made her sound very childlike, and Lisa thought, even though it was her eighteenth birthday in a few months, she was still, in fact, a child. However, this was also one of those moments that had Lisa smiling; she loved how Eira was so fascinated with stories and legends, and managed to find solace in them.

"The Easter Bunny, definitely," Lisa answered. "I always wanted a rabbit of my own but my parents wouldn't let me."

Just then, Oliver stepped into the room again, carrying a glass of water and two extra basins. "Here you go, Eira," he said, handing her the water which she gulped down eagerly.

"Thanks," she said, placing the glass on the cabinet beside her bed and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

"It's still snowing, doll," Oliver told her as he sat in the armchair. "Jack Frost must have taken a shine to you."

For the first time that day, Eira smiled. "My name literally means 'snow', Oli. Of course he has," she responded hoarsely.

"Oh, don't get her started on Jack Frost," Lisa whined playfully, winking at Eira when she sent her an unamused expression. She then eased herself off of the bed and patted Eira's arm. "Anyway, kiddo, I have to get going. See you later."

"Bye, Lisa," Eira replied, waving at her favourite nurse as she left the room.

Although he thought it was a very pretty name with a very pretty meaning, that wasn't the reason Jack Frost had taken a shine to Eira. She had made him feel cold. _Him_. The personification of winter itself. He knew she was young, having only lived seventeen years of her life, and had been burdened with a brain tumour. He knew that she was close to adulthood, yet still she believed in the Guardians. He knew she was dying, and the one thing she wanted before that happened was to be guaranteed that her belief wasn't wasted. He knew he had to do something to reassure her.

So it was then, as the Stirling siblings chatted about the next book Eira wanted reading to her when they finished Pride and Prejudice, that the signature fern frost began to crawl across the window beside Eira's bed, until it covered it entirely.

Oliver noticed it happening right away, since he was sat facing the window. He immediately tapped Eira's arm and nodded towards it when she sent him a confused look. The second her eyes landed on the frost, tears sprang to them and a smile broke out on her face. "I-it's him!" She breathed. "I-it's Jack! It has to be! Y-you said the fern frost was his calling card!"

At the age of twenty-three, Oliver no longer believed in the legends he told his sister about on countless occasions. He straightaway reasoned with himself that the snow in September, and the fern frost before him, was simply a weather phenomenon. Though he didn't dare say anything to Eira, because at the moment she was completely and utterly happy. She wasn't one to complain, she wasn't even afraid that an unnatural growth in her brain was killing her, but it was a rarity to see her happy.

* * *

That night, Eira lay awake with her window cracked. The nurses often scolded her for this, but ever since Gemma told them that her daughter wanted to feel close to the wintry weather and they should allow her that one luxury, they just expressed their displeasure about it in passing conversation with Eira.

She couldn't sleep. Partly due to her headache and neck pain, and partly because she was still excited about the frost on her window. She was certain, despite Oliver responding in such a way that seemed like he was just agreeing with her, that Jack Frost had been here. Perhaps he'd heard her wish. Perhaps she _could_ die peacefully.

Jack decided tonight he was going to pay Eira a visit. Seeing as the window in her room didn't open wide enough for him to climb through, he opted for navigating his way through the halls of the hospital in order to find her room. He didn't see any problems with this idea – as long as he avoided young children that would be most likely to see him. He certainly hadn't anticipated getting lost numerous times. Therefore when he caught a glimpse of a sign that said 'Neuro-Oncology (Brain Tumour Unit)', he let out a sigh of relief and rushed in the direction it was pointing. He recalled that Eira was in a secluded room, but she normally had at least one family member sitting with her.

Suddenly, a gravelly, weary voice reached his ears. A voice he recognised. Smiling, he followed it down the hall, stopping by a room two doors down from the one he'd been outside previously. He peered inside and smiled even further upon realising it _was_ Eira's room, and she was alone.

Eira was now sitting up in bed and quietly singing to herself whatever song she thought of. She brought her knees to her chest and rested her head on them, continuing to gaze at the frosty window, afraid it would disappear if she looked away for even a second. Then one of her favourite songs came to mind, and although it wasn't near Christmas she started to sing it anyway, "Chestnuts roasting on an open fire. Jack Frost-"

"Nipping at your nose?" Came a voice from behind her.

* * *

**Edited this a bit because I felt it was too short. I feel better about it now.**


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